Glioblastoma, they tell me, is a fire in the head. The blood-brain barrier, it is like the seawall, meant to keep bad things out. For MGMT, that methylation business... they say it predicts if the chemo will work.
But I did not let them try. My wall, I let the sea in. I chose the old ways, plants and prayers from my wife's cousin. The 'Our Lady' still sails, and so do I, saiba. The machine's prediction was not for my harbour.
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